


It happened one morning

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deviates in Season 4, F/M, Fluff and Mush, Love Confessions, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Set in Season 4, it is Brienne, not Bronn who tutors him to fight with his left hand. Things get a bit heated one sultry morning when a training session ends up as something else, altogether.





	It happened one morning

**Author's Note:**

> Again, my piece for the JB-week prompt "Heat Wave" ended up as much more than a drabble.  
Thanks for reading, and enjoy :)

“You’re doing it wrong again!” came her exasperated voice, admonishing him for the millionth time that morning. 

And yet again, he forced himself to focus, her sword-tip resting on his neck making him painfully aware that it was more than just the sweltering heat that had begun to lead his mind astray.

“It--It isn’t my fault,” he weakly replied, staggering to his feet, the throbbing pain in his arse disappearing the second he laid eyes on her. She had no armour on today, and clad in nothing more than a simple garb of breeches and a thin shirt, the sight of her proved to be more of an _annoyance_ than many a fierce opponent he’d faced. 

“Of course it is,” she barked, the beads of sweat trickling down her forehead snatching his attention off her words. He began drifting again, his eyes subconsciously tracing one of them. Down her flushed cheek, the little droplet traveled, and Jaime couldn’t help staring, wanting nothing more than to suck it off her when it came to rest on her thick lips.

“Are you even listening? Or am I simply wasting my time here?” 

Only then did it occur to him that she’d been talking while his eyes had wandered off along with his imagination, the numerous things he’d like to do to her hitting him like a tidal wave, throwing him off-course. A sorry state, he was reduced to, his mind and, to his embarrassment, his groin, unable to think of anything but her.

_ Swordplay be damned. _

“Ser Jaime?” she called again, pursing her lips in irritation, but all he could do was to dive into the depths of her eyes, sinking in them slowly, glad to drown, looking forward to no more than the sight of them everyday. 

_ For the rest of my life. _

Reality hit him hard, the truth that it wasn’t Cersei anymore blinding him for an instant, along with the inevitable fact that try as he might, he couldn’t oust the wench off his head.

_ And my heart. _

She was here to stay, he realized with a start. Never to vacate.

“Ser Jaime, stop staring at me, for gods’ sake!”

“I--I’m sorry,” he mumbled, the heat streaming up his face nothing in comparison to the torture his cock was being put through. “I lost track, it’s--it’s just too hot today.”

She looked far from pleased, her brows creasing in a frown. “Since you feel I’m bothering you, I’ll just get out of here and leave you to rest. I wanted to be of help, not a burden,” she snapped, but before she could turn tail and flee, he grabbed her wrist.

“What--” she began to protest, but her whole demeanor transformed within the next moment, anger evaporating off her face, replaced by something else when he draped his stump around her waist and pulled her to his chest. His fingers still curled around her wrist, he held on to her, hoping he’d never have to let go of her. 

“What are you doing?” she breathed, her lashes fluttering in so ladylike a way that he’d never expected of her.

“Something I should’ve done long back,” he said hoarsely, shoving her against the tree that stood behind her. “I just happened to realize something I failed to fathom for days despite all the signs pointing to it.” The goddamn sweat she was covered in was so bloody distracting, that he had to try hard not to gape at her shirt which had now assumed the enticing shape of her breasts.

“What do you mean?” She was barely audible now, but the spark in her eyes told him that he’d read her feelings right.

“This,” he said, and before she could respond or pull away, he jerked her further into his arms and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her like he’d never kissed Cersei before. He pushed harder, first his lips on hers, then his tongue into her mouth, and then his body against hers. He slid his hand up her arm, towards her neck, promptly rewarded with a surprised moan when his fingers met her bare flesh. Tracing a path along the damp skin below her collarbone, he found his way beneath her shirt, and she grabbed his arm helplessly, a lusty cry escaping her throat when he began caressing her breast. Aroused even further by her arousal, he deepened the kiss, and she responded with a gasp, her arms around his neck the next second, and her fingers wildly running through his hair. 

He kept kissing her, his fingers playing with her nipple all along, until the searing heat - both of the sun and the fire within him left him with a desperate need to break for air. 

When they parted, they stood there panting, neither of them saying a word for several seconds, their arms still around each other and their eyes bound together as if they belonged not to two, but one. She looked so fucking beautiful - clothes drenched and sticking to her skin, lips swollen, breasts heaving, and the flames of desire burning bright in her shining eyes.

“That--” she softly broke the silence once she’d recovered enough to speak “--what was that supposed to mean?”

“That you never bother me,” he said, hoping he could put into words everything he’d buried deep in his heart, “nor are you a burden to me.”

She drew away, suddenly flustered. “I need to go--”

He pulled her back into his arms. “Not until you’ve heard me out, Brienne.”

“This can’t happen,” she cried, though she made no attempt to unlock herself from his embrace this time.

“Only if you don’t want it to happen.”

She shook her head. “I have to leave King’s Landing, take Sansa--”

“Stay with me. For now. Forever,” he said in desperation, hoping she wouldn’t turn him down, “because I love you, Brienne.”

“I do too,” she replied, her eyes moist and luminous, “but--”

“Your problems are mine, henceforth, my lady,” he told her, attempting to silence all her concerns, “as are your vows and responsibilities. Isn’t that what a marriage is supposed to be?” 

Her eyes went round with shock and surprise. “Are you asking me to--”

“--yes,” he eagerly intercepted her. “Marry me, my lady, and grant me the honour of calling myself your husband.”

She smiled, her face radiant with the glow cast over it, her exertion just one reason behind it. “I never knew Ser Jaime Lannister was capable of such politeness and courtesy,” she teased, her eyes twinkling.

He threw her a suggestive wink. “Be my wife, wench, and I’ll show you what else I’m capable of.”

Running a thumb over his lips, she coyly whispered, “I can’t wait to find out, ser,” before granting him the bliss of another passionate kiss.


End file.
